Archive for September, 2004
Culture shock, meet iPod
Sometimes you just have to love the small stuff.
Following my return from the island-English-vacuum of Taiwan, I’ve been digging myself out of a bit of a homework hole and trying to rest up to get over a head cold (apparently I brought back a bit more of Taiwan than just a big fat stack of receipts/lottery tickets). But, on the whole, things couldn’t be better. Except for nachos… things would be better with some nachos.
This week has been a surprising reminder of just exactly why I’m a Poli Sci major: I love the stuff. I don’t know how that figures into career plans and such, but it’s a good enough reason for now.
I’ve spent the better part of the last 48 hours trying to catch up on last week’s work and get next week’s out of the way so my travel time will be less cluttered. I know that sounds like a good, kid-tested-mother-approved idea in theory, but in practice it’s been a little more unpleasant–kind of like when you think you’re just going for the physical and then end up getting a dart board’s worth of shots. This disconnect between plan and execution is primarily because “work” equals about 300 pages of reading. Yet, despite the fact I’m not exactly thrilled about this marathon of the eyes, it’s been fairly pain-free since it’s all Poli Sci. And once I make myself read it, I discover I happen to like it.
All this schoolwork must mean the semester is in full swing. I’ve been here for just under a month and I must confess that the “you actually live here now” feeling is starting to set in. That’s not to say it’s normatively negative–just “different.”
And so, I bought an iPod. An iPod mini to be more precise. (And no, just because they’re made on this side of the International Dateline doesn’t mean they’re too much cheaper for those of us a day ahead)
Perhaps, in the midst of a continent out of my control (not to mention beyond my comprehension), it’s just an attempt to reclaim a deck-of-cards-sized dominion.
Perhaps, with week four nearing completion, the sounds of the city have shifted from fascinating mysteries to constant reminders that this ain’t no Rectangular Republic (or even Left Coast, for that matter).
Perhaps, I’m overanalyzing this surrender to American consumerism and just wanted to be back in the playlist-maker-throne.
But, at any rate, it’s been a welcome release to pop in two-white-wires-of-familiarity and let John Denver “take me home…”
That’s all for now… gearing up to leave for Beijing & Shanghai on Wednesday…
Taipei: Caught On Tape
Video clips from the journey through Taiwan are now available in the galactic global premiere of: “Taipei: Caught On Tape!” (7 min, 14 MB, .mov format)
Fank you, come again.
Taipei Triple Threat
[Editorial Note: After returning from Taipei late last night, I just got a moment to sit down and transcribe some thoughts I recorded during the trip on assorted napkins and travel brochures. Thus, this post is actually three days worth of material in one entry, so I apologize if it's a little long for reading in a single sitting. Pictures from the trip are also now posted.]
FRIDAY
Grab your cell phone… or calculator, or laptop, or electric toothbrush. Does the back say something about Taiwan? I thought it might. If so, then I’m standing on the speck of democratic sand on which your beloved electronic luxury was birthed.Usually, I find myself being the more conservative, reasoned, maybe-we-shouldn’t-drive-the-Chevy-Lumina-up-Mount-Princeton member of the group. During the last 24 hours, however, I seem to have forgone my usual sacrifices at the altars of cautious risk and deliberate planning. I have been toying with the idea of a weekend Taipei trip for about two weeks, but the obstacles of my passport being in the possession of the visa-issuing-Red-Chinese and the late arrival of my Taiwan guidebook, I hadn’t begun any serious deliberation about the trip.
Seemingly miriaculously, though, both of those missing links showed up yesterday within hours of each other and I realized I had an open weekend on the horizon. So, in short and against the time-tested-travel-planning skills my parents instilled in me, I decided I had nothing to lose and booked a ticket for a departure some 10 hours later. Understandably, the rest of the originally interested group backed out because of the short notice. But, I’m pumped about the adventure–even if I am 600 miles across water from anyone I know, in a very non-English land that happens to have some 500+ missiles pointed at it from Mainland China.
[...]
The most striking change from Hong Kong so far is the sever lack of English in this otherwise seemingly similar city. (Correction… make that the second most striking difference–the first being that democracy must be good for the genes, because the Taiwanese ladies are certainly some cuties, at least as Asian woman go [wink, wink female America]). At any rate, back the the language issue–my mother tongue is not entirely absent, just much more of a precious rarity. And I’ve only been here 6 hours.
The English scarcity got person when it hit me in the stomach. During my expedition of a few minutes ago to hunt tonight’s dinner, I quickly found that my options were very limited because I couldn’t understand, let alone order from, any of the restaurant menus. The enterprising but perhaps deviant side of me wanted to hand one of the order takers a wad of cash and then point to the words, “Surprise me!” in my phrase book.
Thankfully, however, my unintentional fast was ended when I located a self service bakery–somewhat of a Carb-Country-Buffet. Strawberry milk tea, Chinese garlic bread, and onion & corn pizza probably make for less than a well-balanced dinner, but at least I got to pick my poison. In truth, though, these selections are rather tasty. But, no matter how far from normal these “entrees” seem, somehow singing along with Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody that’s currently blaring makes me feel like this could be as close to home as Beverly Hills or Briargate.
[...]
One of the most reassuring experiences so far came from a guy who quite literally doesn’t know I exist. In my quest for food through the Taipei Train Station, I saw a blind Taiwanese man doing his best to traverse this maze of transport & humanity without a rewarding degree of success. When I first glimpsed him from the other side of the station, he was headed straight towards a wall. Though his cane prevented cranial impact, he was quite disoriented.
Sitting here now, it seems that if I had been within arm’s length, one could have quite easily tapped his shoulder, guided his elbow around the obstacle, and learned some powerful lessons about who we all are under age… language… and even sight. But, past regrets of not being in the right place at that time aside, this brave man’s struggle made me ponder that if nothing else, this experience as an absolute foreigner gives me a frame of reference to partially understand his absolute lostness in the world. His persistence was a valuable encouragement in his insistence to keep looking for escape routes. He didn’t give up. Perhaps he can’t. I doubt he felt sorry for himself. He simply did the job he needed to do, with or without the help of those around him. All in all, a very powerful lesson that seemingly requires one must be lost before one can find.
[...]
A final thought for today: the last time I had this keen awareness of being on a very solo journey in a very foreign land was the extra day I spent roaming Ireland last June, following a few days of shared adventure with Mark Heinmets in the land of Dublin. He had to leave a bit earlier than we both originally anticipated to make it back to the UK for some other travel plans. And now, I’m vividly aware that he once again has left my world a bit earlier than anticipated, this time in a much more permanent way.
And gosh darnit, I miss the guy immensely. I already miss foosball and White Trash Mondays. I miss that I’ll never hear the succinct results of another “team meeting” in the middle of a wind-tsunami. I miss that I’ll never see Mark tower over a train full of Asians. I miss that I’ll never hear his amusing assessment of this place, this food, and this adventure… at least on this side of eternity.
But, while staring loss in the face isn’t a pleasant daily experience, Mark seems to keep me company over here in so many ways–the locals that offer a smile, the Swedish students talking about their homeland, the Asian mullets and more. Also, though, his spirit is more than a memory in the opportunities to step forward into a future of the void–to think big and wager large–ultimately, to go big or go home. Most reassuring, though, is being able to reflect Mark’s vision that this epic of life is truly being written by an Author of divine proportions.
SATURDAY
“Squid, shrimp, and pineapple over rice.” That’s what’s on my plate, here as I jot down a few thoughts in the Brother’s Hotel restaurant. I was lucky enough to discover this place (with some English on the menu!) after wandering through the bakery and McDonald’s down the block. I was even more pleasantly surprised to find the prices were quite competitive, even against MickeyD’s, at about US$6 for my gourmet entree and iced tea. The cultural experience of translating a menu that speaks English into a waitress that doesn’t is included for free. On the whole, though, it’s very enjoyable.
I’ve just come from a very interesting visit to the Su Ho Paper Museum. I think they were quite surprised to see me–apparently most nineteen year old Americans that walk in are asking for directions, not tours. I guess my peers just don’t find the opportunity to solve the mystery of papermaking quite as seductively curious as I do. At any rate, they were very accommodating to my request and stuck me in on a tour with some Taiwanese elementary schoolers. The kids were cool, but the challenging part was a tour conducted (unknown to me at the time of ticked purchase) entirely in Mandarin Chinese. Perhaps it’s analogous to an afternoon watching Telemundo-with-the-subtitles-turned-off, but it was still a pretty sweet experience.
The highlight came in demonstrations of how the pros make paper and then an opportunity to make some myself–thankfully a procedure that transcends the language barrier. The kids were very kind to me, despite the fact we had absolutely no idea what we were saying to each other. I think the parents, however, were a bit curious about this six-foot-Caucasian-Mandarin-mute who enjoys making paper just as much as their six year old. Oh well–I’ve never been so proud of an 8.5″ x 11″.
[...]
After spending some time exploring the magnificent marble monolith that is Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall, I had a good deal of introspection time as I walked for nearly two hours searching for a science museum that later turned out not to exist. Lesson learned: it probably wasn’t in the guidebook for a reason, so don’t trust a tourist map that also advertises the “High Heel Club” (An no, it’s not a fashion fraternity). Back to the introspection…
I’ve always known I had lots to be thankful for, but taking a break from the snowstorm of life and walking into the desert of the unfamiliar tends to highlight these gifts with the attention-focusing power of an itch: parents that have planned for my college education for 19 years (maybe more, knowing them 
… an American passport recognized worldwide… an Asia at peace enough to grant me the freedom to travel… friends that care enough to stay in touch 14 timezones away… the remarkable adaptability of the human body that allows us to survive in entirely foreign environments… the universality of humanity that allows us to understand those whose entire existence has been spent an ocean away… the freedom to write this to a global audience without someone looking over my shoulder… life in a nation that has given me transportation, education, healthcare (yes, even orthodontics) and the liberty to make the most of the above… life in a society permeated by religious influence… the technology of paper to air conditioning to the Internet… the physical capacity to walk however far the journey demands… the sacrifice of heroic souls past and present that assure my countrymen will not live daily under the stated threat of invasion by a larger power (such as the people of Taiwan)…
This opportunity to examine the vast blessing of life-as-just-another-American-kid has added hot water to my Ramen-Noodle-notions that efforts to create and preserve this opportunity for self-determination in our own nation and around the world are not simply vain attempts to re-arrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. No, freedom from fear and justice in opportunity are not just pleasant externalities or sweet smelling emissions. Rather, they are the fuel, the octane, that empowers humanity to live in the fullness of contentment and blaze the individual path to fulfillment. They appear to be the prerequisites for some of history’s most revolutionary assignments in the course of man’s communal with his Creator. They are worth it.
[...]
Rest assured that you’re not getting ripped off buying electronics in America. I was quite surprised to find that the products we buy are actually costing more to the folks that make them when bought locally. Let’s hear it for economies of scale! Woo hoo!
Another interesting economic note, as described in my Lonely Planet guidebook:
Taiwan’s Value Added Tax (VAT) is a sales tax; it affects the prices of many everyday consumer goods. The tax is already built into the retail price so you don’t have to calculate it separately.
While no one likes paying taxes, Taiwan’s VAT can work to your advantage as it allows you to participate in a ‘tax lottery’. Every time you buy something in Taiwan, you should receive a cash register receipt with a unique lottery number printed on it. Once a month the winning lottery numbers are announced in the newspapers–if the number on your receipt matches, the cash prize is yours.
The purpose of this system is to encourage customers to ask for a receipt, thus ensuring that shops have to ring purchases up on the cash register. This way, the government knows how much VAT to charge the store. As crazy as it sounds, this system of ‘customer enforcement’ actually works amazingly well.
Novel idea. I didn’t win… yet ;-P
SUNDAY
Ah, yes. The airplane seat. How pleasant it is sometimes to end up just in the place we started.
Today was a great trek outside of big city Taipei and into the countryside of Wulai. The experience is much better explained in the pictures, but in short it was a journey to (and even to the top of!) a pretty sweet waterfall and US$2.50 well spent on my first experience at an Asian sauna. It was a great chance to relax and be a tourist, but very engaging at times as I had my first chance to navigate the entirely-Chinese-bus-system. Luckily the character matching game worked out.
I recognize I’ve recorded more thoughts in the past few days than usual, so I’ll keep this entry short. Thanks for reading… keep on rockin’.
Hopefully some video footage is coming soon…
A World That Forgot Evil… Yet Somehow Deserved Heroes
Life keeps on truckin’ down a marvelous road. Since my return from Macau, I’ve had some more great opportunities to get some solo time exploring the area (most memorably in a cemetery on a terraced hill some 25 stories tall), some camaraderie with Team Pepperdine (via Hong-Kongized-Indian-food), and some insight into Mainland China from our Seventh Floor Field Trip (at Temple St. market). My days have been un-fantastically consumed with class and study, but, for the most part, I think the academic component of this semester will not only be bearable, but quite possibly thrilling.
I’d like to take a brief respite from my usual format of regurgitating completed itineraries and share two particularly interesting experiences of the last two days. Perhaps you’ll indulge me as I continue to digest these in writing…
Monday was the first session of my latest class to join, a Poli Sci course entitled “Political Economies & Cultures In Transition.” It’s taught in English, the prof is an American, it gives me upper-division Poli Sci credit, and there’s no final–so I decided I’ve got nothing to lose and jumped in. A bit of brief background: The class is a motley mix (numbering perhaps 25 in total) of overseas international students, folks from Mainland China, and a small contingent of locals. Also, part of the self-introduction was to discuss where we’ve traveled in the world. It was astounding to hear of the journeys represented by such a relatively small group. The aggregate list compiled on the board spanned five continents, from beleaguered states to superpowers, from backward villages to the largest metropolises on the globe.Given such a diversity of experiences and the resulting possibility that any position would probably offend someone, the next discussion caught me by surprise: What caused 9/11? The class was split into three groups: Westerners, Asian Men, and Asian Women and given 30 minutes to solve the issue.
While I believe everyone soon broke through the thin ice of trying to be politically correct (at least in the American sense), the conclusions given simply astounded me as I analyzed them during and following the discussion. Rationale such as: “America’s interference in the Middle East,” “USA’s arrogance in international affairs,” “Misbehavior of US soldiers,” “American economic and cultural hypocrisy,” and “Cross-cultural misunderstanding” topped the list. I must confess that I, too, got caught up in some of this reasoning and too often offered another view of the conclusion presented instead of outright rejecting it as it deserved.
But, as the separated groups began to present their responses and class-wide discussion heated up, I soon realized we had lured ourselves into a trash heap of lies and were rummaging through ideas that were worthless for a reason. Yes, we certainly identified several evidences of America’s imperfection. But, I fear we completely missed the true reasons that 3,000 of my countrymen were incinerated in the midst of their Tuesday morning routine three short years ago.
Perhaps most astounding to me in this analysis is the fact that this group, of all people, has no resumé-based excuse to be so wrong. This class is part of the 1% of the world’s population that will receive a college education. This group is fantastically well travelled and marvelously diverse in origin. These minds are the future leaders of our world. These people have read the thick books, written the long papers, and debated the complex issues.
Yet, somehow, we’ve forgotten about evil. We’ve refused to acknowledge that our friends are dead because madmen still find power and wickedness still flourishes. Such thugs have not vowed to make every effort to exterminate me and my family because America hasn’t cured the world of poverty or looked out for our own interest in trade agreements. Brutal beheadings are not a frequent occurrence because my nation does not have enough friends on the world playground. Islamic fundamentalism does not still burn furiously because we contend that we should have nukes and Kim Jong Il shouldn’t. I contend confidently that jealousy or frustration with American arrogance, superiority, or cross-cultural ignorance is not what wakes Osama and his henchmen up every morning.
My United States is not and will never completely be that country that I wish it was. We have our shortfalls. We make mistakes and do things that we know are wrong. We are leading the free world into a war against terror, however, not to preserve our prerogative to be imperfect, but to extinguish the possibility that evildoers will go unanswered in their stated goal of annihilating innocent lives and imposing their sick view of the utopian world. To confront evil, good must not be perfect. It must simply be willing to act.
[...]
Flash forward a few days. In short: I discover that no matter how confused and short-sighted many of us (including myself) are, somehow, our world has been blessed with true heroes to do the dirty work of creating a tomorrow worthy of our past.
His name’s Kyle, he’s but a few months older than me, and he’s from Houston. I met him through a great friend at college and recently learned that he’s doing a different sort of study abroad this semester. He’s a Marine. He’s been deployed. He is on the frontlines of this war on terror in Iraq.
I had the true privilege of getting in touch with him via e-mail over the past few days and received some remarkable words from him tonight. He writes:
…things here are pretty crazy. our base has been mortared and car bombed a few times since i’ve been here. i’ve been on a handful of convoys outside the wire and have seen some pretty breathtaking things. everyday i find myself working shoulder to shoulder with iraqi nationals. i can’t wait till i get home and can start school, but the lessons that i’ve learned here are some that can’t be taught in any classroom. i know that me being here is part of GODs plan for me so i wouldn’t have it any other way.
What an amazing guy. How do we deserve such heroes? How can we ever simply balance the account on such a debt of gratitude? How can I ever be a worthy recipient of such a gift of sacrifice?
I have no worthy answers. Though all words seem incomplete when compared to the magnitude of this matter, perhaps Ronald Reagan had some applicable thoughts:
Each one of those markers is a monument to the kinds of hero I spoke of earlier. Their lives ended in places called Belleau Wood, The Argonne, Omaha Beach, Salerno and halfway around the world on Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Pork Chop Hill, the Chosin Reservoir, and in a hundred rice paddies and jungles of a place called Vietnam.
Under one such marker lies a young man—Martin Treptow—who left his job in a small town barber shop in 1917 to go to France with the famed Rainbow Division. There, on the western front, he was killed trying to carry a message between battalions under heavy artillery fire.
We are told that on his body was found a diary. On the flyleaf under the heading, “My Pledge,” he had written these words: “America must win this war. Therefore, I will work, I will save, I will sacrifice, I will endure, I will fight cheerfully and do my utmost, as if the issue of the whole struggle depended on me alone.”
The crisis we are facing today does not require of us the kind of sacrifice that Martin Treptow and so many thousands of others were called upon to make. It does require, however, our best effort, and our willingness to believe in ourselves and to believe in our capacity to perform great deeds; to believe that together, with God’s help, we can and will resolve the problems which now confront us.
And, after all, why shouldn’t we believe that? We are Americans. God bless you, and thank you.
Macau In Motion
Just got a chance to paste together a few clips from this weekend into the Macau In Motion compilation (4 min, 6.5 MB, .mov format). It won’t win any Oscars… but then again apparently neither will Michael Moore. I, too, am holding out in hopes that my work will air on network television ;-P
Never Forgetting
This project isn’t intended to be political. It is, however, American. And today is an American day that demands pause and remembrance, but also a look toward the future. Please forgive the deviation from my usual subject matter, but given the context of the lesson we find ourselves remembering today and the world that will still surround us tomorrow, I thought the following were some prudent words for the occasion. Disagreements of the past aside, we find ourselves with a job to do. Let’s remember why we’re doing it.
Dennis Prager
November 25, 2003
http://www.townhall.com/columnists/dennisprager/dp20031125.shtmlDear American Soldier in Iraq:
I am writing to you simply as a fellow American.
In just about every way, I am quite typical. I am a married man with three children, believe in God and love my country. I differ, however, from many Americans in a couple of ways. First, my vocation — radio talk show host and columnist — makes me a professional communicator. So I might be able to say things that most other Americans feel but could not communicate quite as clearly. Second, and more important, I suspect that more than some Americans, though hardly more than President Bush and his administration, I am keenly aware of the fragility of civilization, of the monumental evil you are fighting, and of the historic mission of America.
For these reasons, I am writing to you. Though you may already know everything I am about to say, I need to say it for those of you who, after seeing fellow soldiers blown up or severely injured, may sometimes wonder whether these sacrifices are worth it.
So, first, let me set the record straight. Not since World War II have the stakes been this great. This is a war for the future of civilization every bit as much as the war against German Nazism and Japanese Fascism was. If we had lost that war, the world would have devolved into barbarism.
If we lose this one, the same will happen.
It was a war for civilization then; the war against Islamic Fascism is such a war today.
Of course, there are hundreds of millions of fine people among the world’s 1.3 billion Muslims. But that is, unfortunately, as irrelevant to understanding today’s war as the fact that there were millions of fine Germans living in Hitler’s Germany was to understanding World War II.
It is not the fine Muslims who rule most Muslim countries, some of which are among the cruelest on earth. It is not the fine Muslims who dominate the Islamic schools around the world that teach that it is right to subjugate women and to slit Christians’ and Jews’ throats. It is not the fine Muslims who wish to impose a violent, hate-filled religion on others. It is not the fine Muslims who burned 13 churches in Nigeria just last week.
And sadly, most of the fine Muslims, including those in America, rarely condemn their civilization-threatening co-religionists.
Iraq is the battleground for civilization. That is why our enemies are throwing everything they can at you. If you help create the first free and tolerant Arab country in the heart of Islam, they are doomed. If we fail in Iraq, we are doomed. Our enemies know this. We need to know this.
Second, don’t be discouraged by America’s relative aloneness in the world. The world is not, by and large, a good place. And the United Nations, which reflects the world, reflects that fact. That is why Libya, a police state that ordered the mass murder known as the 1988 bombing of Pan-Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland, is not only on the U.N. Human Rights Commission, it is the head of the commission. And Syria, which is worse than Libya, judges us on the Security Council.
As for Europe, Britain and a few other Western states aside, the folks who gave us Auschwitz and Communism and who now bankroll Iran and North Korea hardly have a claim to moral superiority. Americans like you died for their errors. They never died for ours. And they err again. Instead of learning to fight evil, they have only learned that fighting is evil.
Third, we Americans are relatively alone because from our founding we have believed that we have a mission to better the world. And for this we are hated. We are not hated for our power; we are hated for our values and our sense of chosenness — just as the never powerful Jews have long been hated for their values and their chosenness.
In sum, you are carrying the great burden of history on your shoulders every day you serve in Iraq. That some of your fellow citizens do not understand this only means that the war for civilization is taking place as much here at home as it is in Iraq.
We pray for you not only because you are our sons and daughters risking your lives, but because if God is good, and if we humans can discern between good and evil, you are doing God’s work. It is as clear as that. No American war has ever been clearer.
Meandering In Macau
It’s great to be home. The mystifying part of the preceding statement is that by “home,” I’m referring to a living cubicle some seven stories up and some 7,000 miles from my beloved 719. Alas, it’s crazy how things can change in two weeks…
I’ve just returned from a day-long expedition to the nearby island of Macau, a former Portuguese territory about one hour’s boat ride from Hong Kong. A group of fellow international students–including folks from Sweden, Finland, Germany, France, UK, the US of A–and I set off at 7 AM to spend the better part of our Saturday walking the island. And that we did.
MACAU
The ferry ride to Macau, though only 60 minutes, was pretty impressive. A clean, new boat, very comfortable seats, and a very reasonable price (about US$45 rountrip) made for an experience that redefined the stereotype of “ferry” in my mind. Upon arrival, we opted to save a few bucks and get some exercise and go walking instead of boarding a tour bus. Though the island isn’t very big, we literally did walk coast to coast and encircled about half the island. The full day of walking did leave the legs pretty sore, but I’m certainly glad we did it–it was a really cool way to see the city. We hit a laundry list of tourist sites, such as St. Paul’s Ruins, Monte Fortress, The Gardens, Macau Tower, A-Ma Temple, Orient Arch, and others–all of which are better explained in this trip’s photo gallery.
Dinner at a local Portuguese eatery was also very pleasant–I enjoyed steak with garlic fries, some breaded shrimp, and a mango milkshake. All three are things I haven’t seen in Hong Kong, at least in a condition that seemed reasonable to eat. Although we did have our share of “navigational difficulties” throughout the day, the trip didn’t involve any extra spectacular stories of travel. It did, however, provide a few needed benefits including the some momentum towards future weekend travel, the opportunity to spend a Saturday in a much slower paced place than Hong Kong, and of course, the chance to get to know the other students that are also here from all over the globe.
All in all, I’m glad I have the pictures because the place won’t stick out in my mind too far into the future, but I think it was a day well spent–a day that on our calendar happened to be 9/11. Perhaps you and I can both pause to remember what we woke up to three years ago and never forget the importance of the battles which we now fight.
I know, I know–stubborn thoughts have been lingering in the back of your head: Is John making this whole trip up? Could he really be living in a van down by the river in Pueblo and logging a fantasy that is real only to the Sandman? Did we really land on the moon? Well, I’m finally able to provide some corroborated proof for those questions (but you’re still on your own on that last one) as Team Pepperdine was recently published in the Pepperdine Graphic in an article entitled “Global Gab.”
A Day’s Worth Of Excitement In 15 Minutes
Hong Kong–it’s a crazy place. Just a quick note from today before I hit the sheets:
As is the custom of Thursday nights, Team Pepperdine gathered this evening for a group dinner and team meeting/convocation. Tonight, we enjoyed a Vietnamese place in Mong Kok which was pretty swell–thought I learned that “beef cheek” is… well, let’s just say not really too beef-like. The interesting part of the evening happened on the way back to the university in Kowloon Tong.
At the suggestion of our Pepperdine prof, Joel (for once I got an educator that actually requested we be on a first name basis–usually I just have to assume that , we stopped at a street market and purchased some fresh coconut drinks… which are nothing more than some guy slamming a screwdriver into a coconut and sticking a straw in the hole. After taking my first few sips of coconut milk (which actually wasn’t too bad–though certainly not a McFlurry), I looked up and found that we were surrounded by 5 or 6 Hong Kong police. Much to my surprise, they shut down our cocount-vending-friend… which certainly gave me a lot of confidence in the product I was consuming. Thankfully, though, the authorities didn’t hassle us. Apparently Mr. Coconuts was operating without a permit, or something.
I hadn’t even gotten from the stand to the sidewalk before we were accosted by a local whose van had broken down in traffic. I don’t know exactly why he picked the American guys out for this job, but he was looking for someone to help push. Realizing we had nothing to lose, the whole team quickly jumped in. It’s quite a rush to be running through Hong Kong traffic while pushing a van… being driven by a guy who gets a real kick out of slamming on the brakes. We successfully pushed him down a few blocks and accomplished our international good deed for the day.
Oh, and one more note about the coconut guy–in the 10 minutes it took us to push the van and return, the police had disappeared and he had reopened his fruit stand. Gotta love that determination
The quality is nothing too pretty–but I the raw footage from the above is available here.
Also, perhaps you’ll enjoy the irony of this one: today we were assigned our Chinese names in my Mandarin class, names that are based on the translation of the first syllables of English names into common Chinese names. What’s mine, I hear you cry? I’m now “Deng Jiong.” Literal translation? “Bright Communist Party Chairman.” I kid you not
I’m sure someone, somewhere is having a grin over this one…
Kickin’ It In The ‘Kong
(Special thanks to Ray for coining that insightful title)
Well, I’ll warn you right now: this post probably won’t change your life. Just a little midweek note to remind the political opposition that I’m around to cancel your vote in November and assure my parents that the credit card transactions are still me
Following my adventures across the island over the weekend, the past few days have started to settle into a familiar college week. My experience as the “international student” reveals the common woes of class punctuality, bemoaned syllabi, and the quest for ways to stay engaged (or conscious) during a lecture are all indicators that there’s less to worry about in the “international” part of this title and more to be amused and confident about in the “student” part.
I continue to make daily peace with the calorie deities. In truth, the food ain’t too bad. The quantity is definitely a plus–though they’re torturing this American kid with the one-tray-of-food to one-thimble-of-beverage ratio. How they stay hydrated, I do not know… but it does bring up some interesting answers to the height differentiation question (like, perhaps HGH is like a genetic Chia pet?). I enjoyed a special treat of some garlic herb chicken wings and “pizza” (note that thin crust equals a giant Triscuit on this contient) at a trendy restaurant on Monday night. They’re not quite my American make-the-tastebuds-surrender buffalo wings, but they’ll do. I’m also finding that a McFlurry never tasted so good (and the price makes it a worthy investment–a McFlurry over here is less than an iTunes download back home).
The bottom line on classes: mostly cherries, but a few pits. The less-than-optimum news is that the Democratization of East Asia class that I’ve been looking forward to since I got the course catalog has turned out to be a bit less than a scholastic cliffhanger. I think the prof is probably well intentioned, but I’m afraid that his presentation style combined with the content he’s chosen (and his English he’s pronouncing half-completed Wheel of Fortune puzzles) have left my overly-optimistic expectations a bit shy of fulfillment. The upsides include the confidence I’m gaining with Mandarin as the realization sets in that the rest of the class is in the same “I don’t have a clue” boat, the fun that badminton looks like it will be (even if I am the only member of Team USA… and also Team White-Male… and also the solo representative of the Anybody-Without-Black-Hair Squad), and the surprise that this Philosophy of Love class is turning out to be quite intriguing (but no, I haven’t traded in my alpha-male membership card, yet).
As much as it doesn’t make for great additions to the photo gallery, I’m doing my best to forge a pattern of homework and chores during the week in an effort to leave the weekend open for some travel. The simple but marvelous parts of such a goal include the fresh chance to go work out, to get some personal reading time, and ability to make keeping in touch with the Rectangular Republic a priority. It’s like there’s two chunks to this study abroad deal–you get a whole new world to explore but you also get a great chance to reorder the life of the explorer.
This weekend I’m considering a trip to Macau, the other former-British-territory-now-turned-Westernized-piece-of-China in the area (about 2 hours away on jet boat) and hopefully Taipei, Taiwan next weekend (with the keen advice of another CSCS alum that spent some time there this summer–-hat tip to Mr. Tedder).
That’s all the rice grains of wisdom I have for now. Thanks for reading; keep putting a dent in the universe.
The Roomie Has Arrived
One last post to close a busy weekend out.
My roomie, MC, finally showed up this evening and has turned out to be a pretty cool guy. He’s 24 and his “American name” is Michael, which makes him an eerily similar match to my real brother (also, his little brother is named Johnny and is nearly my age… certainly an odd Asian reflection of my own family). He’s in his senior year of a Chinese Medicine degree, but in a further crazy semblance to my brother, he’s tried twice to become a pilot (I guess it’s a test over here) and is currently plotting a third attempt. Though he’s a Hong Kong native, he spent his senior year of high school as an exchange student in Louisville, Kentucky (but somehow he still likes America , so he’s got a pretty neat background and certainly can relate to my predicament.
Also, his disappearance for the last week has been due to his position as president of the Student Union, which I understand is a rather prestigious position. He’s been excused from classes by the University president for the semester so he can work on Student Union issues, which apparently aren’t limited to the pizza parties and karaoke nights I was expecting. Instead, the Student Union, at least at this campus, is actually more of a political action committee, lobbying the university for policy implementation and actually pressuring Beijing on behalf of the students of HK. All in all, a pretty cool guy.
To make up for a week of lost time, he invited me to his family’s home here in Hong Kong. His family lives a good hour-long journey away and is situated in the New Territories, which is the brand new development of HK. It’s a very nice working class area, though I kept feeling like I was walking through 1984 because of the sheer number of people and buildings in such a small area. Dinner was delightful and I got to watch a bit of American TV on a marvelously comfortable leather couch, which was certainly a nice change from my desk/lawn chair. The meal was a culinary adventure, as they all seem to be, and conversation was limited, as MC’s family doesn’t speak but a few sentences of English–-yet, apparently the humor of my chopstick technique continues to transcend language and culture.
Finally, one cool thing I learned about MC is that he was recently featured in TIME Magazine during a protest he helped lead to remember the Tiananmen Massacre:
And if living with a fellow freedom lover wasn’t enough, it just so happens that the TIME he was featured in was the Ronald Reagan commemorative issue. The Gipper would be proud.
Meet MC’s family and see the rest of tonight’s pictures in the Life In The Land Of 7 Million gallery. Thanks for tuning in; we’ll be in touch.
Update: It just so happens that the TIME Magazine story and photo mentioned above are available online.
